Page 29

Kassira

“I ’m going to kick his royal ass,” I mutter under my breath, storming down the corridor — the one that finally got patched up after Sin’s dragon blew a hole clean through it over three months ago. Mental note — kick the Beta’s ass, too. He needs to stop brooding and claim his damn mate already.

But first — my mate.

I shove open the Council War Room doors without knocking. Nine pairs of eyes snap to me in stunned silence.

“Draven,” I growl.

His eyes flash with amusement. He probably thinks I sound like an angry kitten. Cute. Let’s see how cute I am when I claw his pretty face off.

“Out,” he commands, voice clipped. The Council scatters in less than two seconds. Impressive.

Sin saunters past me, casual confidence in every step.

“Don’t maim him too bad,” he drawls with a smirk. “We still need to finish the meeting.”

“You’re next, wonder boy,” I snap, shooting daggers at him.

His eyes go comically wide, and without another word, he bolts. Levi trails behind him, calm and composed.

“Luna,” Levi greets with a respectful nod.

“Gamma,” I purr, syrup-sweet. He’s a good egg. Doesn’t deserve my wrath — yet.

Then I turn back to Draven and glare daggers at his handsome face.

He smiles. That lazy, indulgent smile that always makes me want to kiss him silly — just not this time. He takes a step toward me.

I raise a hand to stop him but he doesn’t. Not until my palm presses to the hard wall of his chest. I grip his shirt and yank, forcing him closer.

“I’m very unhappy, mate,” I say quietly, teeth clenched.

His smile drops. A low growl rumbles from his chest, vibrating straight into my bones.

“What happened? Who do I kill?” His voice is deeper now, raw. Draxis is bleeding through.

Neris sighs in my mind. “Normally, I would be all for seeing Draxis in action, but you are way too dramatic right now, Kass.”

“Shut up, Neris. This is a crisis,” I hiss.

I tilt my chin up and glare harder.

“Why the hell am I not allowed in my own library?” I demand. “I had a meeting with Aly this morning, and a guard stopped me at the door. Said it was on your orders!”

Draven blinks, surprised. Then he grins and his eyes light up. “That’s why you’re mad?”

“It’s not funny!” I snap, tightening my grip on his shirt. “The guard said to come talk to you!’”

He chuckles and pulls me against him, wrapping his arms around my waist. Like I’m not a threat. Like I’m not seconds away from committing regicide.

“I didn’t think you’d be up this early,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss to the tip of my nose. “You were up late last night. I figured you’d sleep in. The library’s closed because I’m having something prepared for you. It’ll be ready in an hour.”

Excitement flares in my chest, cutting through the outrage. “Really?” I ask, brows lifting. “What kind of surprise?”

“You’ll see soon, my beautiful mate,” he says, smug as hell. “Now — did you eat?”

“Yes,” I huff. “Oh, and the cook told me to tell you that we have enough deer meat to feed the entire kingdom for the next five years. Draxis can relax now. I won’t be starving anytime soon.”

Draven’s eyes darken with heat. “We’ll find something else to hunt for you,” he rumbles, low and dangerous.

A shiver races down my spine.

He grins like he felt it himself and he backs me up until my spine hits the door I just kicked in. I hear the click of the lock behind me, and my breath stutters.

“What are you doing, Draven?” I whisper, throat dry, voice thick.

He leans in, crowding me, his lips hovering just over mine.

“You’re irresistible when you’re angry,” he murmurs, and his mouth claims mine with a desperate hunger.

I moan into the kiss, arms winding around his neck, body molding to the hard lines of him. My skirt tangles around my hips as he hikes me up, pinning me between the door and the heat of his body.

His hands are everywhere — palming my ass, sliding up my thighs, kneading the muscle with rough, possessive force. His claws drag along my bare skin, just enough to sting. I gasp, arching into him. He loves it. I can feel his need spark through our bond, stoking mine even higher.

The world outside the door dissolves. There is only this — his teeth at my throat, the scrape of fangs at my jaw, me grinding against him until I’m shaking and desperate.

“You could have just told me about the library,” I pant, biting his lower lip when he tries to speak.

He rumbles deep in his chest, the vibration making my toes curl. “But then I wouldn’t get to see you like this. Wild and furious. My favorite version of you.”

He grabs my wrists, pins them above my head with one hand, and yanks my shirt open with the other. I shiver as the cooler air hits my skin, nipples pebbling under his gaze. His tongue traces the edge of my mark, and I can’t help the whine that escapes me.

“Mine,” he growls, and sinks his teeth in gently — just enough to remind me of the truth written over my skin.

“Yes, yes, yours. Now stop playing,” I gasp, writhing against him. He lets go of my wrists, and my hands immediately tangle in his hair, dragging him closer. Demanding more.

His hands are under my skirt, claws snagging the lace of my underwear.

He rips them off in a single, savage pull.

The move is so primal, so utterly him, that for a moment I can’t breathe.

He shoves my skirt up, exposing me completely, and his fingers slide between my thighs, slick with need.

He teases me, thumb circling my clit, two fingers sliding deep inside me. Curling. I nearly scream.

“I’ll never get enough of this,” he rasps, watching me fall apart on his hand. “Never get tired of seeing you come undone for me.”

I don’t last long. Not with the way he moves, not with the way he owns every inch of my body. I claw at his arms, my head thrown back against the door. When I shatter, I see stars. I see him — my mate — haloed in fire.

He doesn’t wait for me to recover. He lets me down and spins me around, palms flat against the door.

"Do you want me fuck you, my Luna?" he growls, voice so deep it vibrates between my legs, sending a new jolt of pleasure. His fingers brush the curve of my ass, a touch so filled with heat that it’s a miracle I don’t combust instantly.

"As if you even need to ask," I manage, voice barely a breath.

He laughs, low and deep. "Say it," he commands, darkness slipping into his voice, amusement gone.

"Fuck me, Draven," I whisper, and the effect is immediate.

I brace myself, heart pounding, breath ragged. I hear the sound of his zipper, the slap of his cock against my ass. And then he’s inside me. One hard, deep thrust that makes my vision go white.

He fills me, stretches me, and there’s no gentleness in the way he takes me.

Possessive. Fierce. The way I like it. His hands clamp my hips, dragging me back to meet each savage thrust. My cheek presses to the wood, breath fogging in frantic bursts.

Every time he slams into me, my body sings with pleasure.

“Say it again,” he rasps, voice raw, lips curved in a hungry grin. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” I gasp, nails raking the heavy door until splinters dig into my skin. Each thrust makes the world narrow, makes the bond between us flare — hot and bright and so strong it hurts. I feel him everywhere inside of me.

He shifts his angle, hits that spot, and I nearly sob.

“Draven, please—”

He laughs, low and dark. “You’re so fucking greedy,” he groans.

His hand snakes up to wrap around my throat, pulling me upright against his chest. His other hand moves down, finds my clit, and circles it in a rough, perfect rhythm to the pounding of his cock. My knees buckle, but he holds me up, body caged by his, every muscle tensed around me.

The pleasure builds too fast. Too much. I shatter, legs trembling, vision going black at the edges.

I scream his name so loud that it echoes off the walls.

But he doesn’t stop — he only fucks me harder, desperate, wild.

My whole body is shaking, every nerve ending alive and raw and tuned to him.

He grunts my name — voice heavy with need.

He bites hard into the mark at my neck again, and I feel his orgasm building up through our bond. A hot wave that leaves me dizzy and boneless.

I can feel everything. He’s falling apart too, muscles locked, breath coming in ragged bursts.

The need to see him undone is riding me like a compulsion.

I arch my back as he slams into me, over and over, until I feel him lose it — feel his cock throb and pulse, spilling inside me with a growl that shivers the glass in the windows.

He collapses against me, breath ragged, arms wrapped tight. For a minute, we just stand there together — me pinned to the door, him draped over my back like a hungry beast after a kill. I love this. I love him.

“I should lock you out of the library more often,” he pants, still inside me.

“That’s a death wish,” I purr, pushing my ass back to feel him twitch.

He bites my neck, gentle this time. “I love you, Kassira.” I melt. “You’re everything,” he says, quiet and rough.

I turn in his arms. His shirt is half torn, my skirt rucked up, underwear shredded on the floor. We look like we’ve been at war.

“I love you too,” I whisper and then narrow my eyes. “But next time, if you keep me out of my own library,” I say, poking a finger into his chest, “I’m going to let Neris bite you somewhere sensitive.”

His eyes gleam silver, and he grins, all fangs and promise. “I’d like to see her try.”

I roll my eyes, but can’t help smiling. “You’re impossible.”

“Look who’s talking,” he says, and kisses me — slow and deep, like we have all the time in the world.

“We should probably clean up,” I say, voice soft and happy.

“We could,” he says, “or—” He leans in, lips brushing mine, and grabs my ass, fingers digging deep, “—we could stay here and see how many times I can make you come before your surprise is ready.”

Seven. Seven times was the answer. In the span of less than an hour. I am completely dickmatized and I don't care. I walk beside Draven down the hallway, grinning foolishly.

The guards posted at the library doors snap to attention and open them wide. Draven bows with mock flourish and gestures me in first.

I smile, but the moment I cross the threshold, the air changes. The smell of old parchment and pine polish hits me, but it’s softer. Cozy, almost. The library is… completely different.

I blink, confused. The heavy old tables and rigid straight-backed chairs are gone.

In their place — clusters of armchairs in deep jewel tones.

Plush things you can sink into and never leave.

There are reading nooks built into the window alcoves, each one piled with blankets and pillows.

The fireplace is lit, and above it hangs a new portrait.

A wolf and a hellhound, tangled together in a playful chase.

They look exactly like Neris and Draxis!

A sprawling couch so big it could fit six shifters at once sits at my right.

There are even little side tables, each with a stack of notebooks and a basket of sharpened pencils.

A tray sits at the end of the couch, already steaming with fresh, dark coffee and a plate of pastries that suspiciously remind me of my old bakery.

And in front of the couch, there’s a desk.

A big, beautiful desk made of dark wood and perfect for writing.

But what catches in my throat isn’t the furniture.

Or even the coffee and the pastries. It’s the shelves.

There aren’t just books anymore. There are crystal vials, jars of dried herbs, carved runes, delicate little boxes that pulse with old magic.

Every inch is filled with something I told Draven about in casual conversation — without any expectations. And more.

I turn to Draven and that’s when I see it. Above the door, in curling, hand-carved script, a plaque. KASSIRA’S DEN. Not a library, not a research center. My den.

I stare. I don’t move. I don’t even know how to breathe anymore.

Draven’s hand slides into mine, his thumb tracing over my knuckles.

“You like it?” he asks, and even though he tries to keep the question light, there’s an edge to his voice.

I look at him, and there’s no smugness. No arrogance. Just hope. Just a man who wants to make his mate happy.

It hits me then — the weight of it all. How much thought, how much care went into making me this space. How even after the world burned and re-formed around us, he still remembered the little things I said in passing. The way I complained about the chairs, the dusty air, the lack of decent light.

I blink rapidly, trying not to cry.

“We can add more books,” he says, “or take some away. If you want a bigger window, I’ll rip out a wall. Whatever you need.”

Neris yips in my head, tail wagging so hard I’m surprised I don’t get whiplash. “He loves us,” she sings, as if it wasn’t obvious.

I just stare for a full, awkward minute. The words are stuck in my throat. I’m still trying not to cry.

He shifts from foot to foot, anxiety climbing. “Is it—if you want the old stuff back, I can—”

I kiss him before he finishes. He stiffens for a second, then melts in, arms winding around me. When I pull back, he searches my face, waiting for me to speak.

“This is perfect,” I whisper, brushing his cheek. “You’re perfect.”